I want to think back to a time of love. About the girl I loved, I feel confident that I can write about this since I have completely fell out of contact with her. At the time I was in denial about such feelings and for goo reason. I had never met her. I was maybe eighteen, young and full of crazy thoughts and dreams. Outwardly I brooded, ranted about Nietzsche but pronounced it Neez-Chi and had no idea what I fool I must have sounded. But it was okay, for I was as dark and edgy as a white middle class teenager could be.And when I was alone I laughed, I danced and I sang a song. I imagined lofty rainbows and the dragons who lived there. But I wanted to be someone else completely. And I still do. And I never will know myself... and I was just realizing this at that time, another fit of deniel. And it came from all sides in those years. Over flowing the banks of The Nile.
And than there was Myspace, and I made my account and wrote blogs and blogs, piling my secrets out there for all to see. in hindsight it was probably a mistake. I never should have made such confessions, not because people shouldn't have known or that I never wanted them to... this story is not about that girl though. No, if I started in a bout her than there could never be an end.
This story is about when I was young, when I first discovered the internet and had no idea what to make of it. I still dont. I was on Myspace, and I sent messages to everyone. To everyone, everyone in the world. And they ignored my cryptic madness almost entirely. Except one. She responded, and we talked, and we talked and talked and than we exchanged AOL Screen Names. And I told the secret. But we were friends, and at the time I didn't know it but I loved her, only later would I suspect. She lived halfway across the country, we'd never meet in person. Her pictures were myspacisque so it was rare to see her entire face. But if i recall correctly it was the most beautiful face ever.
She seemed neurotic and disillusioned at the time, but she took to denial eagerly. I was the same way.
We talked of the fantastic, we spoke of the dragons we had in our care, of our adventures with time travel, saving the day from sinister boxlike forces. Sometimes I'd imagine there was more to these conversations some sort of metaphor, they were nothing but fun games though. I'd never enjoyed anothers company as much. I constantly looked forward to our speaking. Gradually she contacted me less and less, and i would send her a greeting more and more. This hurt me in a way... I felt as if she took me for granted, or worse. Sometimes we mentioned our lives. Neither of us had a clue of what we were to do with ourselves. She was a few years older than I in community college and working at a place where people would buy desert. I was as insane as ever at the time. My secret had consumed me, than chewed me to bits and would leave me more heartbroken than any thing else could. But at the time I was in such a fantasy world, such a daze and yet I'd never been so aware of reality before in my life.
And we still spoke in those days and we world for a few years. And I thought she was the greatest person ever, and every single problem that arose gave me great concern. Her well being was very important to me, and I still didn't believe I loved her. And she almost never greeted me on the chat. She mentioned boyfriends... and I felt little or no jealousy. Even at my worst I'd rarely feel strong jealousy... only later perhaps, but even than I had come to my conclusion, softened the fall I knew I'd make.
I had a dream, a wretched vision one night. The worst nightmare I could ever have. And there was no monster, no beast stalking me through the nigh. No, there was her, and she was as lovely as ever... except for one thing. She made it clear in that dream, she said, "You need to leave me alone, you bring nothing but trouble. I don't want you bothering me anymore." And I woke up terrified. I could have cried, if that was my way. I quickly went on line and nearly got into an argument with her. I asked why she was mad at me, why she didn't want to be my friend. I had been thrown into fits insanity. And it was the worst thing ever. If she hadn't felt like she was dealing with some crazed stalker before she certianly should have than. At it was than when I realized I must have loved her, but also I knew it was a silly love. That it would never work and I had to accept that. But we could still be friends. And she talked about the guy she seemed to to like, and I was happy. For I would have been content with her happiness and after all I was insane and had nothing to offer her. I knew why I had been in denial of my feelings for her for so long, and that was for a number of reasons. One I was out of my mind, and she may have been as well for all I knew, for no other reason than because she'd still respond to my messages. She doesn't anymore now... that's fine. But she spoke of this guy and perhaps for once I felt a little bit of jealousy. She would say he was a rich kid, from a family of money. He had one of those deals where his family kept a stash away for him, a trust fund. And like William S. Burroughs he chose to put that money into drugs, naturally. She complained, she cried of his misdeeds. How he'd use drugs in dangerous levels, it made him erratic, probably more unpredictable than even I. But I defended this man, because I didn't want her to suspect that I loved her. I could never have that, and she would never have that either. I was destined to become a bum, I am destined for it and all I've ever had to offer is disappointment. She never showed the slightest interest in anything more than friendship. If she had ever felt anything close to what I felt for her than maybe something could have been made of it.
I felt like a creeper, a stalker... and that is how some such creatures are born. Others may be perverts, but some feel an unrequited love. And they wish for that thing they can't have. But for that very same reason, letting go... isn't that something I can do? Haven't I don't that before, only with the secret... but I never really did. No, you take than painful thorn and you stab it deeply into your flesh and hid it from everyone and everything best you can. So i never let go, but perhaps I appear as if i have... and that's good enough for the world. But inside it breeds insanity... is that a bad thing, for insanity is the manure from which art grows.
She became a rare sight on AOL. I was on less and less myself. I spoke to her last summer, it was late in summer, might have even registered as early fall. Summer of 2010. Before my brother shot himself and I was pushed to homelessness. To the brink I've always said I wanted to be brought to. But really, never thought I would. And so perhaps it was even for the best. And yet still, I send her a facebook friend request. I have no idea why I'd do such a horrible thing. It's just that things have been so dismal as of late and there has never been a person who could cheer me up as quickly and as well as she once could. I hope she doesn't accept it though. Because she deserves that happiness that she's always been searching for... and even as a friend, all I can offer is disappointment.
I wish I could say that I'll never fall in love again. It was the most horrifyingly terrible experience ever. But knowing my luck it's bond to happen. And I'll feel desperately anxious and disgraceful about the whole thing just as I did before. As if I must bring the greatest gift and I have nothing to give.